


hey ghouls, the boys are here

by zach_stone



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Ghost Hunters, Comedy, Existence of actual ghosts is questionable, First Kiss, M/M, Mutual Pining, Paranormal Investigators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 09:39:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17139419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zach_stone/pseuds/zach_stone
Summary: Amateur paranormal investigators Josh Washington and Chris Hartley tackle unexplainable phenomena in their hometown, armed with a camera. Tonight they’ll face one of the most infamous of all: the local bed and breakfast.





	hey ghouls, the boys are here

**Author's Note:**

  * For [banhmi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/banhmi/gifts), [notyourbro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notyourbro/gifts).



> This fic is a Christmas gift for my two wonderful friends, Minh and Laura. Merry Christmas, y'all!!! It's been roughly 3 years since our friendship was formed over the concept of a Climbing Class Ghost Adventures AU, and while our elaborate collab fic never came to fruition, I hope you'll enjoy my attempt to make those old dreams come true. I love you guys!!!!

The scene opens with a camera’s slow pan and zoom of a dingy bed and breakfast at sunset. There are only two cars in the lot — the owner’s, and Chris’s beat-up Subaru. Off camera, Josh begins to speak, his voice laced with melodrama: “The Paxton Bed and Breakfast stands on the edge of town, near the highway. Its sign, weather-worn with erratically blinking neon, proclaims VACANCY.”

The shot cuts to Josh, standing on the sidewalk outside the bed and breakfast. He’s wearing a black sweatshirt with a Pac-Man ghost on it. He continues, still exaggerated, “Few guests come to stay at this humble hotel these days, but according to its owner, Margaret Paxton, the rooms are far from empty.”

Chris lowers the camera slightly so he can give Josh an incredulous look. “Are you serious, dude?”

Josh glowers at him. “Come on, that was a good take! We need to set the scene!” He waves his hands until Chris lifts the camera up again, and continues, “Tonight, Chris and I will stay in what Ms. Paxton claims is the most ‘active’ room in the building, and you’re about to see why.” He pauses for dramatic effect. “Okay, cut.”

Rolling his eyes, Chris turns off the camera and lowers it again, sliding it into the camera bag slung across his shoulder. “You still haven’t told _me_ what’s supposedly in this place.”

“That’s ‘cause it’s a surprise,” Josh says, leering. “In fact, I think I should be filming when we walk in, gimme the camera.”

Chris warily hands it over, and the two make their way toward the front door. “How do you even find these places?” Chris mutters.

“It’s easy, bro! There’s all kinds of haunted shit around here. Between you and me, though, I’m really glad Ms. Paxton pulled through, because my backup plan was just us straight-up camping out in the cemetery.”

“Ugh, no thank you,” Chris says, shuddering.

“What, would that be too scary for you, Cochise? I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts,” Josh teases. He’s turned the camera on again, and takes the liberty of zooming in on Chris’s ass as he walks ahead to grab the door. Josh is glad that Chris isn’t the one who’ll be editing this footage.

“It’s not ghosts I’m scared of, it’s sitting in a muddy field full of bugs and worms all night,” Chris retorts. He yanks open the door to the B&B and steps inside, Josh close on his heels.

Chris stops dead in his tracks in the entryway. The Paxton Bed and Breakfast, so it seems, is completely decked out in dolls. Little porcelain figures of clowns line the shelves of a glass-doored cabinet just beside the check-in desk. Several 18-inch dolls with matted hair and milky glass eyes sit on various shelves and tables around the lobby, their lacy frocks yellowed with age. A permanently popped-out jack-in-the-box watches sadly from beside the hat stand to Chris’s right.

Josh moves the camera slowly from the jack-in-the-box back up to Chris’s face, where he dramatically zooms in. Chris’s expression is completely deadpan.

“You know what? I think I would’ve preferred the cemetery,” he says.

From behind the camera, Josh grins.

 

* * *

 

Margaret Paxton sits on a floral couch in the lobby of her establishment. She’s an older woman, with wispy grey hair and a kind face. When she speaks, she is matter-of-fact, not a trace of irony in her words. Later, Josh will edit text to appear on the screen in the lower left: _MARGARET PAXTON_. And beneath those — _Owner of more than 200 haunted dolls and figures_.

“All of the dolls and figurines here are haunted, yes,” Margaret says. “I’ve spent several decades collecting them. I know most of their names and their stories. Almost all of them are harmless, just lonely. That’s why I keep them here. They like to see the guests.”

From beside Josh, who is filming, Chris mutters, “ _Almost_ all of them, she says.”

“Hey, demons need homes too,” Josh whispers back.

“That’s true. I let you live in my apartment, after all,” Chris muses.

“That cuts deep, bro. I’m wounded.”

After her introduction shots, Margaret leads Chris and Josh down the hall, chattering away all the while. She points to various dolls that line the tables and shelves, mentioning their names and pasts. Chris isn’t paying attention; he’s got the camera turned towards himself, an unflattering below-the-chin angle, and he’s speaking under his breath.

“This is the goddamn creepiest shit I’ve ever seen. I’m not saying I think these are haunted, but they’ve _definitely_ got an energy. Look at that one!” He pauses, turning the camera enough to bring a clown figurine into view. It’s garishly pink and yellow, frozen in a handstand that looks more like an exorcist-style contortion. Its painted-on mouth is open in something that’s not quite a smile, and its eyes are black rings with empty white staring out. Chris keeps the camera on it only for a moment before whipping the lens back to himself. “I mean if that thing isn’t gonna come to life and murder me in my sleep tonight, I don’t know what will.”

“What’s that, dear?” asks Margaret from ahead of him. She catches sight of the clown and smiles, nodding. “Oh, you’ve met Charles. He was murdered at a circus when an elephant broke loose and trampled him to death.”

Josh and Chris exchange looks. “That’s a nice story,” Josh says. Chris elbows him.

Margaret shows them their room, which she’s apparently informed Josh has the “most activity” reported from prior guests. It’s certainly easy to believe the room is haunted: a row of three baby doll heads sit on the shelf above the queen-size bed, and an ancient stuffed cat stained with some unknown substance sits on the cushion-piled rocking chair. Various other dolls and figurines take up many of the free spots in the room, but Chris is pretty fixated on the doll heads. He barely hears Margaret explaining that they have an en suite bathroom, or telling them when breakfast will be served the next morning.

“One last thing,” she says. “I would very much appreciate it if you don’t do anything to antagonize the dolls or the spirits that reside in them.” She looks pointedly into the camera Chris is holding up.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Josh says smoothly. Chris smothers a laugh behind a cough. As soon as Margaret is gone, Josh turns to Chris, looking fucking delighted. “Isn’t this _nice_?” he asks. “We even get our own bathroom, what a luxury.”

Chris is about ready to smack him. “Why are there _decapitated dolls_ as decor in here?”

“Hey, don’t say it like that, they’ll hear you,” Josh says. “They have traumatic pasts, according to Ms. Paxton.”

“What, were they beheaded and then decided to haunt some beheaded dolls? Really just embrace the horror?” Chris says, rolling his eyes.

Josh shrugs. “She was a little fuzzy on the details. But she did say sometimes they make the bed move.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Sounds like a fun time, if you ask me.”

“Gross,” Chris groans. He reluctantly takes some shots of the room while Josh unpacks their paranormal supplies — a Ouija board, an EVP recorder, dowsing rods, and a maglite. It’s pretty meager as supplies go, but they’re just starting out. Once their YouTube channel really takes off, they’ll get the Good Shit. That’s what Josh has been saying for the past six videos, anyway. Chris points out, often, that Josh has enough money to splurge on the professional equipment any time he wants, but Josh is insistent that they have to _earn_ it. Chris thinks he secretly just enjoys the gritty DIY quality of it all. Plus, the shitty equipment is easier to manipulate into appearing haunted, not that Josh would ever admit to that.

 

* * *

 

They start with the Ouija board, a favorite of Josh’s. As they sit across from each other on the floor, Josh places his hand on one end of the planchette, and Chris puts his on the other. The camera is set up on a small tripod between them, and Josh has his phone recording down on the board with his free hand. They’ve also lit a few candles, which Chris thinks is a fire hazard and definitely not something Margaret would be happy to find out about, but Josh says something about “setting the mood” and ignores him completely, as usual.

“Okay, spirits,” Josh says. “If there’s anyone in here with us, give us a sign. Who are you?”

“Baby doll heads, I’m lookin’ at you,” Chris adds.

“Shut _up_ , bro.”

They sit there in silence for a moment, and then two. Chris starts humming the Jeopardy theme. Very slowly, the planchette starts to move. Josh stiffens, his eyes widening. “Oh shit, dude, it’s happening,” he hisses. “Okay, okay… A… S… L… goddamn it, Chris, cut that shit out!”

Chris snickers, and Josh sets down his phone so he can whack him on the arm. “The spirit’s hitting on you, bro! I don’t know what to tell you,” Chris says.

“God, you’re the worst,” Josh says. He moves his hand on the planchette so it’s on top of Chris’s, and Chris stops laughing. His cheeks darken, and he looks up at Josh, who is studiously not looking at him. “This is to make sure you can’t cheat. I’ll be able to tell if you move it.”

“Right,” Chris says, slightly strangled. “Whatever you say.”

They’re silent for another moment, and then Josh says, “Okay, but actually, baby doll heads, if you want to say hi to my rude friend here, now’s your chance. Please, feel free to haunt him.”

“Eat my ass, spirits!” Chris says. Josh chokes back a laugh. “Spirits, do you like me, yes or no?”

The planchette moves almost immediately, and Chris looks down in surprise. He can feel Josh’s hand tightening around his own, and he’s pretty sure Josh is the one moving it — well, of _course_ Josh is the one moving it, because Chris isn’t and it sure as hell isn’t actually the decapitated trio on the other side of the room — and he’s not surprised when the planchette comes to a stop on _YES_.

“Wow, guess the spirits like me,” Chris says, looking up at Josh with a teasing grin. Josh looks… embarrassed? “What’s up, bro?” Chris asks, smile faltering. “Jealous I’m gonna get some hot ghost action and you’re not?”

“You wish,” Josh says, flashing a smirk before taking his hand off the planchette — or, off of Chris’s hand, really. Chris privately mourns the loss of contact, but he’s not about to say anything.

 

* * *

 

Josh’s next bright idea is to lay in the bed with the EVP recorder while Chris films him. The room is completely dark now, and Chris can only see Josh through the night-vision on the camera. Josh grins wolfishly at the camera as he settles on the downy comforter, resting the EVP recorder on his chest. “According to Ms. Paxton, this bed has been known to shake and vibrate, apparently caused by our doll friends up there. Let’s see if they’re feeling feisty tonight.”

“Hey, ghouls, I know you’re not real, but if you are, give this guy a good vibrate. He _really_ needs it,” Chris says from behind the camera.

Josh throws him a saucy look. “You make me sound desperate.”

“Considering our ghostly encounters are currently zero for seven, I’d say you are, Mr. Ghost Hunter.”

“What? That’s horse shit, we had a paranormal experience at the old museum two weeks ago!”

“That was absolutely an owl and I refuse to believe otherwise.”

“You didn’t seem so sure it was an owl when you were locked in that room —”

“I’m claustrophobic, you ass!”

Josh opens his mouth to shoot back another snarky retort, but then he pauses, his hands coming to rest on the bedspread on either side of him. “Oh, what the…” he mutters. “Chris, it’s happening.”

“What?”

“The vibrations, bro!” Josh slaps the side of the bed hard enough that it jostles the EVP recorder. “Get in the bed with me, we can feel the vibrations together.”

Chris immediately reddens, and he almost drops the camera. Letting out a slightly hysterical laugh, he yelps, “What?! No! Did you even hear what you just said?”

For once, Josh doesn’t leap on the chance to continue the innuendo. “This is about the paranormal! This bed is notorious for moving and I just felt it move. Do you want to experience it with me or not?”

Chris stares at him. It appears that he’s entirely serious. “This is so stupid…” Chris says under his breath, but he eases himself onto the bed next to Josh anyway, turning the camera around so it’s filming both of them. He can sort of see Josh’s face in the dark now that he’s so close. “I’m gonna be honest, Josh, I’m not feeling any vibrations.”

“No?”

“Not even a little wiggle,” Chris says solemnly.

“Oh.” Josh looks forlorn. Chris is quickly becoming aware of the fact that they’re now just laying in bed together, and despite the size of it they’re pressed almost shoulder-to-shoulder. In complete darkness. Chris feels Josh’s hand shift by his, and for a wild moment he thinks Josh is about to take his hand, but he just moves to rest both hands on the EVP recorder, fiddling with the settings.

Then, Chris _does_ feel something, and he lets out a startled yelp, rolling sideways as the camera footage goes shaky. “What the hell! Did you just do that?”

“Do what?” Josh exclaims.

“Grab my ass!” Chris yells back.

Josh starts laughing. “My hands were up here, man, I didn’t touch you.”

“Shit… I swear, dude, something grabbed my ass. Like, hard.” Chris pats the butt of his jeans as he speaks.

Josh is laughing so hard there are tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “Y-you got goosed by a ghost, man,” he wheezes. “Are you being serious? Please tell me you’re being serious.”

“Stop laughing, you dick,” Chris grouses. He sits up and rights the camera, turning it to Josh and tutting irritably. “So unprofessional. Anyway, it was probably just a… a muscle spasm.”

“Right.” Josh sits up too, wiping his eyes. “Oh man, I’m gonna play that back in slow motion. You fucking shrieked, bro.”

“I — shut up, I did not!” Chris holds the camera protectively to his chest. “Maybe I’ll edit this episode, you ever think of that?”

Josh says, “No!” a little too quickly to not be suspicious, but he distracts Chris easily enough by practically tackling him off the bed to wrestle the camera from his grip.

 

* * *

 

Of all Josh’s inane ideas on how to speak to the dearly departed, the dowsing rods are Chris’s least favorite. They’re by far the easiest to manipulate, even more than the Ouija board, and Josh _always_ insists on being the one to hold them, so Chris just knows he’s cheating.

“Alright,” Josh says to the camera, once again propped up on the tripod. “We’re going to be using these” — he holds up the thin copper rods — “to hopefully communicate with some of the ghosts and ghouls in the room with us. If the rods cross, that means yes. If they move apart, that’s a no.”

“Hey spirits, is Josh an idiot?” Chris says, and then leans forward to cross the rods. “Oh, look at that.”

“Cut it out,” Josh says, but he’s smirking.

“Why don’t you let me do this part for once?” Chris asks, as he always does. And as usual, Josh shakes his head, still smiling smugly.

“Mmm nope, this is for true believers only, bud.”

Chris sighs. He’s tired, and still a little shook up by all the almosts and poignant touches they’ve had tonight. “C’mon, Josh,” he says, ignoring the fact that the camera’s still rolling. “You don’t _really_ believe in this shit, do you?”

Josh looks affronted. “Obviously I do.”

“Like, I get you’re going for the whole skeptic-and-believer dynamic for the videos, but you can’t actually —”

“Dude!” Josh exclaims. “Yes, I _actually_ _do_ think this shit is real. If you think it’s so stupid, why do you keep agreeing to do this with me?”

_Because I’d do any stupid thing if it meant spending time with you_ , Chris thinks. He’s definitely not going to say that, though, he’s not _that_ much of an idiot. He licks his lips nervously, and doesn’t miss the way Josh’s eyes immediately track the movement. Huh. That’s… well, that’s something.

“Chris?” Josh prompts.

“Uh,” Chris says, intelligently.

Josh opens his mouth as if to start a sentence, then closes it again. He glances to the side, smiles crookedly, and holds out the dowsing rods. “Whatever, rookie. Give it your best shot.”

Chris takes the dowsing rods and holds them in his hands, feeling stupid.

“Hey spirits,” Josh says then, locking eyes with Chris. “Does Chris like me?”

Chris’s stomach drops. Josh is just _looking_ at him, and he doesn’t appear to be making fun of him. Chris glances at the camera. He glances back at Josh. Then he takes a deep breath and slowly moves the rods so they cross.

Josh exhales slowly. “Oh. Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” Josh is being uncharacteristically nervous, and agonizingly cryptic. He fiddles with his hands in his lap and smiles, just slightly.

Chris, seized by an impulsive moment of confidence, says, “Spirits, should Josh kiss me?” Josh’s head jerks up, and he watches as Chris makes the rods cross again. “Hm, spirits say y—”

He’s cut off by Josh surging forward to grab him by the collar and kiss him. Chris drops the dowsing rods and they hit the floor with a muffled _clang_. Chris’s glasses are knocked askew as Josh’s hands move to either side of his face, and Chris sort of flails, not knowing what to do with himself and too focused on returning the kiss to know what to do with his own hands. They finally part, both breathing heavily. Chris lifts an unsteady hand to right his glasses.

“Well,” he says.

Josh laughs. “Yeah.”

“Soooo does this mean…?” Chris trails off.

“It means that you _definitely_ misused our very professional ghost hunter equipment,” Josh says, deadpan. “Honestly, Christopher, where is your integrity?”

Before Chris can start to form a retort, Josh leans in and kisses him again. Chris can’t even find it in himself to care that the camera’s still rolling.

(Later, when editing the footage, Josh will add in a voiceover prior to their kiss: “While it appeared that the dowsing rods were moving when Chris or I asked a question, it turns out it was definitely Chris manipulating the rods.” As the two lean forward to kiss, the footage freeze-frames in the split second before their lips meet, and the word DEBUNKED appears on the screen in big red letters.)

 

* * *

 

Chris wakes up to the feeling of something resting against his chest. Eyes still closed, he smiles to himself, warm with the memory of Josh curling against his side as they fell asleep the night before. He opens his eyes, ready to tease Josh for using him as a pillow all night.

Josh is not resting his head on Chris’s chest. Instead, the weight is from one of the baby doll heads, placed at the base of his sternum, gazing right at him with its cracked glass eyes.

“Yikes!” Chris yelps, flinging sideways and, tangled in the sheets, falling off the bed.

Above him, Josh is laughing. Chris twists around and sees Josh kneeling on the bed, filming him. “Rise and shine!” he says in a sing-song voice.

“Fuck you,” Chris says, chuckling ruefully as he tries to extract himself from the mess of bedding on the floor. “You’re lucky you’re cute, you asshole.”

“I know,” Josh says smugly. He has the decency to set the camera down and help Chris get back into bed. “I don’t know why you’re blaming me, bro. The ghosts just really have a thing for you.”

“Well I’m flattered, but I’m also taken.” Chris grabs Josh’s hand.

Josh grins, looking distinctly like he’s won something. “I feel bad for the spirits. They’re really missing out.”

“I still don’t believe in any of this ghost crap, by the way,” Chris tells him. “I saw no proof last night.”

Josh cups Chris’s jaw, leaning in close. “Guess I’ll just have to convince you next time,” he says.

“Next time,” Chris agrees, before closing the distance between them.


End file.
